The Trouble With Being Ill

Lucky me. I've a three day weekend and here I am just a hacking and coughing away with a vicious early summer cold. It's just not right. And believe me when I tell you, I know exactly who I should blame. Two people in fact. The very two who sounded much like I do now except much worse and who despite being afflicted with the bubonic plague kept coming into the office, day after day, for the sole purpose of passing their contagion around. I mean really, why use a sick day when you're actually sick?

So here I sit, mug of hot chocolate to the right of me and an open door to the basement to the left of me. And I think that perhaps I should be doing more than I am, like finishing the laundry I took downstairs yesterday, or cleaning up the dishes I left behind last night in favor of sleep. And while decisions will have to be made, at the moment I've decided upon not making them. Not a single one. I'm sick after all and as far as I'm concerned that is a good enough excuse to last me until early afternoon if not later.